


Good morning, Darling!

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: “It’s true that Fukawa-chi talks about being the ideal housewife, but have you heard the sorts of things that she mutters under her breath?” Yasuhiro said. His grimace summed up their thoughts. He placed his hands onto his waist and turned his head to one side. “Fukawa-chi’s a flaming masochist, 'right?”Within moments of positioning his hands onto his sides, he flung them away and jabbed the air with an index finger.“It would have gone more like this...”Togami and Fukawa don't show up to breakfast. Their friends suggest why they're late.





	Good morning, Darling!

“Good morning, Darling.”

The voice jingles from somewhere beyond the darkness behind Byakuya’s eyelids. He opens his eyes and props himself on one elbow as he partially sits up, and he stares beyond the foot of the bed to the doorway.

Touko stands there, wearing a black loita maid dress with bows and short puffy sleeves, and embellished further with ruffles and white trimming. Everything in Byakuya’s vision is black, white or a shade of grey in between in the dull, early morning light, but Touko’s smile beams radiantly, threatening to split her cheeks. She sashays over with a tray of breakfast. Her glasses jig on her nose. The tray in her hands gorges with several dishes. Steamed white rice. Grilled salmon. Miso soup with chopped onions, mushrooms and deep-fried tofu swimming in it.

There’s luwak coffee too. Can’t forget the luwak coffee. Each component of the filling breakfast blends into an aroma that swirls around the room and caresses Byakuya’s nostrils on its way in, pooling in his head.

“I brought you breakfast,” chirps Touko. “Would you like me to feed you, Darling?”

“Please do, Honey,” he says. He picks up his glasses from the bedside table.

The mattress sinks a little as she seats herself next to him. Touko sets the tray onto his lap and picks up a bowl of rice. She cradles it with one hand, holding it below his chin, while her other hand feeds him sticky white blobs pinched between two chopsticks.

“Should I prepare a bath for you, Darling?” she asks sweetly. He nods. The skin by her eyes crinkle. “Say, ahh, Darling...”

“Ahh...”

Touko leans in more and continues feeding him, wiping away every stray grain of rice, every smear of sauce, every fleck of spice, every...

* * *

Yasuhiro’s stomach interrupted loudly, seemingly causing Aoi to lose her train of thought because she trailed off right after and didn’t speak for a few seconds.

“... and that’s why they’re not here yet,” finished Aoi. She punched her palm lightly and looked from one person to the next.

Makoto, sitting to her right, curved his lips upward. Next to him and opposite Aoi was Yasuhiro, who pulled a face but said nothing for the time being, his arms folded over his chest. Then, finally, kneeling to Aoi’s left, Kyouko had furrowed her brow and was scratching her chin lightly with her thumb.

The four of them had spent the last fifteen minutes waiting at the kotatsu in Hope’s Peak’s teachers’ lounge. Or, what had been and would be Hope’s Peak’s teachers’ lounge. Makoto winced as his stomach whined, but he didn’t placate it, continuing to gaze passively at the delicious breakfast picnic that they had all brought, which was missing the croissants and miso soup that Byakuya and Touko had promised to bring respectively.

His stomach gurgled again, and he cringed. If only Aoi hadn’t gone into so much detail about food...

“That’s certainly a picturesque scene, Asahina-san,” admitted Kyouko. “However...”

Oh, right. They were talking about why Byakuya and Touko weren’t here yet. Not about breakfast. Not entirely.

Aoi tilted her head to one side. “However...?”

Kyouko didn’t answer, but Yasuhiro did. He whipped a finger forward and pointed at Aoi, who straightened sharply like a bullet had shot out of the end of his digit and struck her in the heart.

“That’s way too sweet for Fukawa-chi!” said Yasuhiro. Aoi wavered.

“You think?” asked Aoi, eyes wide.

“It’s true that Fukawa-chi talks about being the ideal housewife, but have you heard the sorts of things that she mutters under her breath?” Yasuhiro said. His grimace summed up their thoughts. He placed his hands onto his waist and turned his head to one side. “Fukawa-chi’s a flaming masochist, ’right?”

Within moments of positioning his hands onto his sides, he flung them away and jabbed the air with an index finger.

“It would have gone more like this...”

* * *

“Good morning, Darling.”

Byakuya’s eyes peel open, fighting against the temptation of sleep. Colours pop out at him, saturated with the morning in full swing, and perception seeps through into his mind like sweat coating skin on a hot day.

One, he is lying on his bed. Two, he is lying on his back. And three, a full, red, lacy bra hovers over his face.

He widens his eyes and if he could, he would jerk his head back, but he just pushes down against the pillow. The bra recedes and Touko’s face swoops into view, nearly the same colour as what she’s wearing. Her glasses slip a bit, and she has to raise a hand to support them.

“Touko?” Byakuya asks, his gaze flitting up and down her.

She giggles and settles on his lap, deliberately grazing her panties against his crotch. Byakuya bites his lip, wearing a checkered pyjamas set with white, blues and violet.

“Are you behaving?” he asks as he slivers a hand to cup her backside.

“I am,” promises Touko, already drooling.

He squeezes. She gasps. Then he spanks her, and she shudders and gasps again.

“Then get to work,” he sneers. “All of me needs waking up.”

“Y-Yes, Master!”

Byakuya puffs out his chest and rests a hand on her head. He exerts pressure, guiding her back and lowering Touko’s head until she hovers over his crotch. Her rosy pink tongue wets her lips as she reaches her hand to his waistband, but she doesn’t tug it down.

Not yet, not without permission. She admires him with gleaming eyes. As her head tilts forward, her glasses scoot down her nose, but she doesn’t lift her hand to adjust them.

A jolt spasms in Byakuya’s groin at the sight of her, at the sounds of her panting and at the breeze of her breath. He grits his teeth and pulls on her hair.

She tenses and mewls. That elicits another quivering sensation, down there, in him.

“Earn it first,” he drawls. “Then you can unsheathe it.”

Touko gives a vague nod, and then rubs him through the fabric with her palm. A gasp pops out of Byakuya and Touko smirks, which in turn prompts him to wrench at her hair.

Again, she whimpers, but again, she doesn’t sound like she isn’t getting off on it, and she wiggles her bottom. She shines with sweat and saliva as she works her hand, and she plays with him for a while before she grabs him firmly through his trousers. Her fist pumps his length and groans fizzle out of Byakuya like sparks. The more she massages him, the more he hardens, and like the Sun rising outside, he pitches a tent down there.

“Good girl,” Byakuya murmurs, showing a lot of teeth. “You’ve done well. It’s time for your breakfast.”

Her eyes gleam as she slides down his trousers painstakingly slowly to reveal -

* * *

“We get the gist of it,” said Kyouko.

Toward the end of Yasuhiro’s gripping tale, Aoi had covered her face with both hands and she showed no signs of coming out of her shell any time soon. Nearby, Makoto rubbed the back of his neck and Kyouko sat as still as a Renaissance statue. A faint blush dusted Kyouko’s cheeks, and a bolder one consumed Makoto.

Yasuhiro balled one hand into a fist under his chin.

“So that’s why they’re not here yet,” Yasuhiro concluded. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, staring off to the side with a grim look on his face. “Fukawa-chi’s giving Togami-chi a blowie, and now they’re going to spend the whole morning in a BDSM session...”

Aoi squeaked and hunched her shoulders, still smothering her face with her hands.

Makoto flushed hotter, somehow. His heart skipped.

“They are not doing that, Hagakure-kun,” he told not just Yasuhiro and the others, but himself too. “They could be sick...”

“... Unlikely,” Kyouko remarked.

“Togami hates being absent for things, especially without phoning in advance,” said Aoi, though that usually applied to work-related matters. During the mutual killings, Byakuya had willingly skipped several meet ups with the other students. Still, since then, Byakuya had been improving when it came to casual meetings such as this.

“... They could have got stuck in traffic,” Makoto carried on, but Yasuhiro answered without missing a beat.

“It’s a five minute walk from our apartment block to this building,” said Yasuhiro.

And they hadn’t joined Komaru and the former Warriors of Hope for breakfast. A text from Komaru had confirmed this.

“They could have been up late last night. Whatever it is, they’re not late because Togami-kun is dominating Fukawa-san,” said Makoto firmly.

“Naegi-kun’s right,” said Kyouko.

Makoto turned to her.

“Thank you,” he said, lapsing into a grin.

“... the DS is the wrong way around,” explained Kyouko.

Seconds passed. Makoto realised what she said and nearly tipped over. Which, when taking into account that he was sitting with his legs crossed, spoke volumes about the impact of her words.

“E-Eh?” he went.

Kyouko’s face didn’t tremble. She nodded.

“Indeed. Out of the bedroom, Togami-kun prefers to take charge, but in private, he likes to let loose,” she said, narrowing her eyes into hard slits.

Aoi’s face finally emerged from behind her hands. Everyone gave Kyouko their full attention.

Sensing an upcoming scene break, Makoto thrashed his hands and said, “Please, we don’t need to imagine - ”

* * *

“Good morning, Darling.”

That low, husky, immediately recognisable voice plays Touko’s spine like a piano, each note a chill that ripples through her. Of course, Touko has woken up late, expected after spending much of the previous night working on her latest novel. She feels around for her glasses and once she puts them on, she opens her eyes and a cool-hued bedroom confronts her. Byakuya looms over Touko, straddling her, wearing nothing but a leather body harness. Various metal rings serve as cross sections for the studded straps, which loop in a collar and form a perimeter around each of his breasts, a large part of his stomach and his crotch.

His crotch.

Touko slouches forward. She lifts one hand and presses a finger lightly against the underside of his chin. Easing into a smile, she tilts his head back, just a little, and studies his face. He’s blushing and pouting, trying not to squirm, but she knows that really, he loves every moment of this. Neither look away as she straightens up. Neither can.

Byakuya’s stomach growls.

“Hungry?” she asks, and he nods. She lets go and flicks his chin. “Fetch me the whipped cream.”

He obeys, getting off the bed. Touko slaps his behind and he jumps. Her lips curl smugly as he hurries out of the room. Half a minute later, he returns, grasping a can with a nozzle on the top. After he climbs back onto the bed and positions himself in front of his mistress, she takes it from him and squirts some onto her foot.

“Lick here,” she instructs, pointing down. Byakuya stoops his head, on his hands and knees, and rolls out his tongue.

At first, most of his licks slice through the thick blobs, but then he attacks it with the flat of his tongue. Once he has shaved off and swallowed a good chunk of the thick white coating, he weaves his tongue between her toes, gulping noisily and huffing through his nose. Some saliva spills out of his mouth, and he has to lap that up too. Touko holds his head, forcing him to stay down so he can’t come up until she’s satisfied. Her skin glistens where he has penetrated all the way through the cream, and as time goes on, he loses precision, modesty, leaving behind little bumps of spit, little streaks of white.

She watches gleefully, more than happy to wait for him to service her feet completely. Only then does she release his hair and take off her nightdress, putting her red lingerie on full display.

His shoulders rise and fall as he anticipates, longs for her next command. He tries to appear casual, pursing his lips, but his wandering eyes keep returning to her, and his crotch betrays him.

Touko bares her fangs and shakes the can. Cream gushes onto her breasts, small but perky. When she takes her finger off the trigger, the can stops rasping, and she tosses it aside. She seizes the leash attached to Byakuya’s collar and pulls him closer. The sudden, harsh movement means he nearly falls into her breasts.

Byakuya catches himself at the last moment. Any closer and he’d dip his face into the cream.

“Don’t leave any,” she says.

“I won’t,” says Byakuya quietly. His eyes shut gradually as he leans in. He latches his lips onto her nipple. Touko strokes his hair, smirking, and then she reaches under him for his erect -

* * *

“That’s enough!” Makoto blurted.

Aoi was cowering behind her hands again. Yasuhiro had broken into a sweat. He pushed down on his thighs and his face could best be described as the one that someone might contort theirs into if constipated.

Kyouko quirked her brow but immediately fell silent, as prompted. Makoto heaved a sigh.

“None of those situations ring true to me at all,” he said.

Silence was thick like whipped cream or another undesirable simile. Aoi resurfaced from behind her hands.

“Oh, I know!” Aoi said.

* * *

Two stickpeople walk along a hill in an impatiently coloured drawing of a sunny day. One stickperson has a pair of long lines sticking out of their head, and the other has legs like stilts.

“Everyone is going to be so surprised when we come in with all these donuts,” says the stickperson with incredibly lengthy legs.

“That’s right, Byakuya-sama,” says the stickperson with the lines sticking out of their head that are meant to be braids. This stickperson has circles for eyes. The other has rectangles for eyes. “We have enough donuts to last - ”

* * *

“I don’t think that’s right either,” said Makoto. Aoi pouted.

Yasuhiro slammed his hands onto the kotatsu. Some of the plates shuddered. “I know!”

* * *

Gunfire hammers their eardrums. Touko leaps sideways and dives dramatically behind the couch in Byakuya’s living room. Byakuya is already there, taking cover, squatting with a megaphone gripped tightly in his hands.

“How many are there?” he asks, his face full of lines.

On the other side of the couch, dozens of Monobear units approach them with the speed of an enemy monster on easy difficulty.

“A lot,” says Touko, wearing vacuum packed latex. Her spine is twisted so her breasts and bottom can be seen simultaneously from a single angle. She gets out her taser and positions its prongs by her neck. “But... we have to fight them off and save our previous friends.”

Byakuya nods. “Yes, especially Hagakure, our dearest and most handsome friend.”

“Oh, most definitely.”

* * *

“Come on, guys!” said Makoto, exasperated as he batted away the imaginary cloud that Yasuhiro had conjured.

Kyouko frowned. “Then why do you think they’re not here yet, Naegi-kun?”

All eyes fell onto Makoto. He hunched his shoulders, squeezed his knees and hardened his features.

“If it’s impossible that they got stuck in traffic,” Makoto said slowly, “and all those other things, then...”

* * *

“Good morning, Darling.”

That voice belongs to Touko, spoken into Byakuya’s chest. She feels him stir and clings tighter, inhaling the smell of lavender fabric softener. Her favourite time to write is at night, when the living room has darkened and her monitor provides a dim window of light. When the world seems to hold its breath and she can write in peace.

The soft lustre that tints the bedroom doesn’t come from her computer, but spills in through parted curtains and morning’s yawn. Sometimes, Byakuya stays up for her or entices Touko into their bed, and last night had been an example of the former.

Touko likes to spend as least time in the dark as possible and so often exhausts herself until she becomes victim to sleep in a fell swoop, protected by the light of her monitor, but with Byakuya, she finds it more bearable, and though she can’t see him when it’s so late, she knows that he’s there, that the dark doesn’t only hide bad things.

“How long have you been awake for?” mumbles Byakuya.

“A while,” she reveals.

He shifts. Stretches. Hisses. “We overslept.”

She tenses.

“I didn’t hear your alarm, so I thought it was still too early,” she explains hurriedly. “I’m sorry, Byakuya! I’ll...”

“It’s fine,” he says. Touko hesitates. “It’s just breakfast. I doubt we’ll have missed much by the time we get there.”

She peeks up.

“Do we have to go there right away?” asks Touko.

Byakuya pauses, then yawns.

“I suppose not,” he says, looking half-asleep still. He bends down and kisses her on the forehead with chapped lips, imprinting the Sun onto her skin. “Good morning, by the way.”

The sleepy haze in her head clears. Touko beams and buries back into his chest. His arms wrap around her middle, and they both relax.

* * *

No one spoke for a while, pondering Makoto’s suggestion.

Eventually, Yasuhiro hiked up his shoulders. “... I guess?”

“It seems a bit boring though,” piped up Aoi, resting her cheek in her palm.

“Sometimes, the truth can be,” admitted Kyouko. She swept some stray hairs from her face and smiled at Makoto. “I think Naegi-kun’s right.”

Aoi exhaled loudly. “Probably.”

Yasuhiro’s silence signalled agreement.

“They overslept, and that’s all there is to it,” said Makoto. “I’m sure of it.”

* * *

Byakuya and Touko stayed snuggled in each other’s arms. The morning dragged its feet, but it would come to an end sure enough. They were well aware of this.

“... You want to sixty-nine before we go?” asked Touko.

“That’s the one where we lick each other’s...?” Byakuya stopped. Touko hummed. He cleared his throat and reached for his glasses. “Sure. Yes. Why not?”

**Author's Note:**

> I got a request for 'Tofu, a kiss to wake up' for a meme on tumblr and I got way too carried away haha.


End file.
